Resurgence (14 page)

The King speaks slowly and deliberately, carefully pronouncing each word and sounding as charismatic as ever. ‘In many ways, it’s admirable you have come here to hand yourself
in.’

I nod slightly, not speaking, letting the atmosphere build. He needs to talk me up because I have to live up to everything they have painted me as. Without that, he is a dominant man picking on
a teenage girl.

‘You have caused this nation great dismay. Do you accept that?’

His words blare through the speakers above me and I can feel the weight of everyone wanting to hear me speak. Instead, I nod again.

More murmurs, more silence. Keep playing. Give Opie and Imrin time.

This is a different King to the one I have seen when there are no cameras and no public. In the shadows of Windsor Castle, he would have had me killed in the same quick way the Minister Prime
would. Would have raised a sword in the way he did to Wray. As his brow crinkles, he is realising he has made a mistake, misjudging the mood of the nation. On the big screen, his twitches and
glances away are being carefully edited out to make him seem as in control as possible. There is a delay of a few seconds and someone must be working at speed to make this happen. Either that or
they have a blade to their throat.

He speaks again. ‘I have only ever had the best interests of this country in mind. The Offering is designed to bring the brightest and best minds together in order to help this nation
flourish. You defied that process and tried to kill me. There can be no higher treason.’

I continue to stare at him and don’t even nod this time.

‘Come on, girl, what have you got to say for yourself?!’

His demand is so loud that the speakers whine in protest. He is starting to lose it and I know I can only push him so far. If he really does lose his temper and have me killed, I will be of no
use to anyone. Imrin and Opie still need time.

I open my mouth and feel the crowd opening theirs, too, in anticipation. I speak as softly as I can, being the girl I am. I’m not sure where the microphone is but something picks up my
words and amplifies them through the speaker above me.

‘You forgot a bit.’

The King stares at me, momentarily bemused before he regains his composure. ‘What?’

‘You forgot that I also helped everyone from your second Offering escape.’

A current of shock and surprise flashes through the crowd. This is the first time they have heard anything about the children from the second Offering leaving the castle.

The King keeps his eyes fixed on me but I can tell quite what a mistake he has made is sinking in. Behind him, the Minister Prime’s gloved fists are clenched so tightly that his fingers
are almost pushing through his palms.

The King replies in the best way he can, maintaining some control. ‘So you admit to your crimes?’

‘I’ll admit to mine if Bathix admits to his.’ I point towards the Minister Prime, making sure everyone knows who I mean. Give him a name, humanise him. He stares at me with
such fury that I’m half-convinced he is about to leap out of the chair and kill me with his bare hands.

At first the King doesn’t seem to know who I am talking about. Bathix is a name so long forgotten that there is a good chance he hasn’t heard it in the past decade. The reaction of
the crowd is largely confusion but there are also a few giggles from people safe in the anonymity of being among so many others.

The King swallows and draws himself up to his full height again. ‘Do you have anything further to say?’

‘No.’

He throws his arms wide triumphantly. ‘For anyone out there who wants to bring this country to its knees,
this
is your champion. Take a look at how this girl who endangered you all
now cowers under the might of me and my Kingsmen. This is a message to anyone who would dare try to harm this great nation. This is where you will all finish, surrendering in front of you, my
subjects, begging for forgiveness.’

He pauses to take a breath, expecting rapturous applause. There are cheers, but nothing like the reception he had before.

Now is the time and I can only hope Opie has got Imrin far enough away for them to be safe. I clear my throat gently but it is picked up and amplified. ‘You forgot something else,’ I
say gently, letting the pause settle, before adding: ‘I’ve not given up and I’m definitely not begging for forgiveness.’

The King goggles at me, confused. ‘You’re standing there by yourself, girl. You’ve confessed to your crimes. You’re about to be executed. What do you think you can
do?’

He smiles, opening his arms to indicate the army of Kingsmen behind me. I nod slightly, letting him think he is right, and then slowly unzip my coat and let it drop to the floor.

This time, the King gasps at the same time as everyone else and again it feels as if the air has been sucked away from me. I pause and turn in a full circle, allowing the camera to focus on the
cylindrical pipes strapped around my body.

As I finish turning, I make sure the King is looking into my eyes before replying. ‘I think I can blow up this bomb and take you down with me.’

Panic.

I continue staring ahead, unmoving, daring anyone to step towards me. Behind, I can hear people starting to rush away. Their feet clatter on the hard ground as they clamber over the remains of
the city, not wanting to be caught in an explosion. The King has no such refuge. He has to be strong and stay nose to nose with the enemy. If he doesn’t, everyone watching at home will wonder
why they need a monarch at all. If he cannot defend himself against a teenage girl, then how can he protect them from foreign lands, or future wars?

I see all of this rushing through his head but it is Bathix who acts. He leaps to his feet, pointing towards me. ‘She’s bluffing. Kill her now.’

None of the Kingsmen behind me moves as I reach into my pocket and pull out a metal tube. I speak as firmly as I can. ‘This is the manual detonator. If anyone comes anywhere near me,
I’ll set it off. It will kill everyone within a hundred metres.’

The King stammers a reply, desperately trying to keep cool. ‘You’ll kill yourself.’

‘I’m dead anyway.’

It is as true a statement as I could ever make. The King’s biggest mistake wasn’t in orchestrating this; it was in giving me no way out. With the choice of sacrificing myself for
Imrin, it was always going to be me who ended up here. With me walking into my own funeral, I may as well ensure I take my nemesis down with me. The fact the Minister Prime is standing next to the
King is a bonus.

I thought I would be nervous but my thumb is rock-solid on the trigger. Any worries I had moving through the crowds have gone now that I have done all I can to get Imrin and Opie away. My mother
and Colt would understand why it had to be like this. With no King and no Minister Prime, better people will be able to start rebuilding the country from the tyranny.

I glance towards Bathix, knowing what he is thinking, and point towards the back of my neck where I feel a cool piece of metal pressing against my skin. ‘This is connected to my pulse. If
I die, it sets itself off anyway.’

I don’t know if he has a gun, or if there are unseen archers anywhere near, but that should put some doubt into their minds. I can see the Minister Prime weighing up if I am capable of
something like this. But then I did walk out of Middle England’s North Tower undetected, as well as escaping from Windsor Castle – twice.

He doesn’t dare doubt me.

Turning back to the King, I feel as calm as I can ever remember. I run my fingers across the metal pipes that hang vertically around me. Frank has shaped them perfectly. ‘All of this was
created by me and another of your Offerings. If you treated people well, you’d have had access to our skills over many years. It could have been a force for good, ending hunger and suffering.
Instead,
this
is your legacy.’

I pause to let the shouts, screams and pandemonium echo around. The trains won’t be running yet, so people are running in any direction that takes them away from me. I can hear bodies
bumping into each other, people shouting and cursing. Above that, I can hear the sound of their retreating footsteps. The King will know it too – when it really comes down to it, most people
will save themselves. They are frightened for their own lives, not throwing themselves forward to protect him.

‘You shouldn’t panic,’ I say firmly, talking to the people around me and those watching on their screens at home. ‘This bomb is not going to go off.’

There is little reaction behind me, I suspect because I can’t be heard over the sound of people fleeing. The King and Minister Prime both seem confused, wondering if it is a bluff after
all.

The King might be many things but from growing up watching him on screen, I’m in no doubt that he is a naturally gifted speaker. He has a way of phrasing things, a tone to his voice that
makes people listen. One of the things I have learned from watching, even today, is that a timely pause is as valuable as any words.

And so I wait for the reaction, standing defiantly until the screens have to change and focus on him, unable to miss him spluttering in confusion. I let him do my job for me – suddenly I
am the cool, calm one and he is the person with crazy wide eyes looking for help.

I stare up at the camera positioned on the pylon towering above, looking directly into it. ‘The reason it won’t go off is because the King won’t let it. He’s too selfish;
he’ll let me walk away . . .’

As I say the word, there is a loud screech from the speakers above. A booming, popping noise erupts, making everyone wince. Even the Minister Prime’s eyes twitch, although he resists
putting his hands to his ears. My final word is lost as the large screens switch themselves off, leaving only black. I suspected this would happen and it is now truly just me. The people at home
will have seen what was happening and I hope they can guess the rest.

With no coverage, the Minister Prime steps forward but I hold my hand up, thumb primed on the trigger. The King stretches out an arm and I can see an irritable look between the pair. The
Minister Prime may as well say ‘I told you so’ because I can read his face even from the distance I’m at.

I say nothing, using silence as my weapon. I have learned from the master.

Eventually, Bathix turns to me, lip snarled in fury. He spits his words out. ‘What do you want?’

I take a small step backwards. ‘I’m going to walk away, untouched.’

The Minister Prime has now taken control. ‘You think we’re going to let you come here, take your friend, and walk out completely unharmed?’

‘I know you are.’

Another step backwards, arm raised, thumb primed.

‘You care so little for your own life that you’d kill yourself just to
murder
our King.’

He makes sure he emphasises the word, letting me know what I would be doing, but he has missed the point entirely.

I nod towards the King, shouting to make myself heard now my voice is not being broadcast. ‘I couldn’t care less about him but I’d happily sacrifice myself so my friends and
family can be free.’

Another step backwards.

The Minister Prime raises his arms. ‘So why all this?’

I indicate the King again. ‘Because
he
values his own life far more than he does yours, or anyone else’s. He won’t let me kill myself because he only has one concern
– himself.’

Bathix’s eyes flicker sideways in annoyance, knowing I am right. If it was down to him, he would kill me now, simply to find out if I am bluffing. He might sacrifice himself to prove a
point but he knows the King won’t.

I glance quickly behind but the Kingsmen aren’t blocking my route. Most of the crowd have scattered into the distance but there are a few people standing and watching in amazement. I step
backwards again.

Bathix taps the side of his face. ‘It can’t be a bomb, Your Majesty. Where would she get the parts?’ I don’t reply, smiling and taking a longer step towards the Kingsmen
behind me. ‘Those pipes will be empty, the trigger a fake. How would she know how to make such a thing?’

‘I knew how to get out of your castle.’ I pause, letting them become annoyed at each other, and then hammer it home.
‘Twice.’

The Minister Prime is almost pleading. ‘Your Highness . . .’ he says, his voice sounding different to how I have heard it before. He’s nearly begging. The King says nothing,
holding up a hand as I take two more steps backwards.

In a flash, Bathix pulls a gun from his belt and points it at me. I hold my position and stretch my arms to the side. Considering I hadn’t seen a gun until I was sixteen, I have now had
two pointed at me in a matter of weeks.

‘Do it,’ I shout.

I can see the tension through his extended arm, his finger poised on the trigger. The King turns and tells him to put the weapon down, but the Minister Prime instead steps forward until he is on
the edge of the stage. I walk forward again too, back to the position I was in originally. We are so close that I can see the wrinkles around his mouth, the tic above his eye and the absolute
unabated rage of his stare.

I hold my arms wider. ‘Do it.’

Behind him, the King shouts furiously. ‘Put it down!’

Neither of us moves. ‘My friends are safe,’ I say, barely loudly enough for him to hear. I even manage a smile. ‘My mother is safe. My brother is safe. Almost everyone has
turned and run. They’re safe. I don’t care if you shoot me. Do it.’

‘Put. It.
Down
.’ The King’s order is so forceful, so thunderous, that it should not be ignored and yet the Minister Prime doesn’t flinch, continuing to glare an
inferno at me. This is about more than the trouble I have caused. This is personal.

The King storms forward with such force that it feels as if he might stomp through the stage. He grabs the Minister Prime’s arm, wrenching the gun from his grasp. For a moment they both
stand, staring at me in disbelief. The King holds the gun and starts to raise it towards me before stopping himself. The Minister Prime didn’t fight back but hasn’t moved either. Behind
them I see Ignacia and the other two head Kingsmen standing awkwardly, not knowing what to do.